The Jamais Vu Effect
by teoriapostmoderna
Summary: What starts as an ordinary day quickly takes a turn for the worse and Amy is the only one Sheldon can count on to keep his world from falling apart. Or is it? Most of all, is everything really as it seems?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: **_Hiatus fic woohoo! First time ever I'm writing a multichapter, so I am kind of nervous but I'll try my best to update as regularly as I possibly can (expect a chapter every two weeks, more or less) and, most importantly, I'll try to get this done before S8 starts. Current plan is for 5-6 chapters, but I'm one that gets the grip of a story only once I start writing, so I can't say for sure. I'm already working on chapter 2. I find it hard to actually discuss the story without spoiling everything, so I'm just going to leave you with this: I came up with this idea before I knew of what would happen in the finale, then I was almost going to drop it, but then... I... rethought... some things? I'll shut up.  
_

_Thank you to my lovely beta Melanie, my cute little lumps of wool − you know who you are, and everyone that takes their time to read what I write._

* * *

**The Jamais Vu Effect**

**I.  
**

As Sheldon lazily opened his eyes, everything before him was tinged with grey. By getting up and peeking up at the window close to his bed, he concluded the sky was clouded by giant dark masses − hence the flat monochrome that appeared to engulf his room. The smell of incoming rain made him dizzy for a split second. What a dramatic way of announcing itself. He was so used to the sun he had a hard time reconciling with the change.

His thoughts were disturbed by the alarm on his phone as he was checking the road under him; the asphalt was dry and the road lights weren't on. Strange, he thought. It was merely half past six in the morning and it was quite dark outside. Someone wasn't doing their job. In turn, that meant he had to write another letter to the Pasadena City Council and that made him sigh, content.

Determined to get out of his sleep slumber − the weather wasn't helping − and get a move on, he turned off the alarm and got out of his room after putting his robe on.

Sheldon had a long day ahead of him; he was supposed to have breakfast with Amy and spend the rest of the day at her apartment (Leaving the house first thing in the morning without having food first? That didn't sit well with him at all but who was he to question his girlfriend's hippy dippie requests). They had set up Sunday Get Togethers in the Relationship Agreement − just spend time together, nothing planned, let the whimsical take over. They could even go without speaking a word to each other for the whole day − something they both agreed was a great way of spending one's time with the other and did so many times − but the unplanned nature of the... well, plan, made him uneasy. This was going to be the first time. At least it was once a month, he considered. _Fair enough._

A few days earlier, when he informed Leonard of his intentions for the Sunday after his friend had told him his own plans for another − Sheldon mentally did air quotes − "romantic getaway" with Penny for the weekend, as per Roommate Agreement request, she asked:

"But don't you spend every Sunday with Amy anyway?"

"It's different" he said. Wasn't that self explanatory?

"Don't even try, Penny − you know how hot it used to get when they had Date Nights at the Cheesecake Factory as opposed to regular dinners on the couch" Leonard smiled at her. A really big smile. Sheldon couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was almost positive that was sarcasm.

Long story short, he was on his own. All he had to do was take a shower, get dressed and take the bus that stopped at−

The bathroom light wasn't turning on. Sheldon's eyes went from the switch to the bulb a couple of times, then he kept on dragging the button up and down with no success. That was strange. They (as in, Leonard) changed the lightbulbs in the apartment every six months to avoid any inconvenience, environment be screwed − he once caught his roommate hiding already used lightbulbs and re-using them. Maybe that's what happened again. Sheldon shook his head as the thought crossed his mind.

He tested the mirror lights. Nothing. The corridor lights. He paced to his bedroom. Leonard's − nothing, nothing, no artificial light to be seen. He then went in the living room and noticed with the corner of the eye that the tv light wasn't on, either. He opened the fridge to check that, too − and yet again, no light.

It then dawned on him the reason as to why he perceived a temperature change in the room.

_Blackout._

He had to stay calm. He had everything he needed and he was about to leave the apartment anyway.

But first, he had take care of the deteriorating food in the fridge.

* * *

With the food safely stored for the next 24 hours, he could now take care of the rest. Sitting down on his spot in the darkened room, he thought that calling Amy was the next step. He didn't even try the home phone as the line wouldn't work on his end anyway, so he tried for her cellphone, but it was off. Complete silence. Not even her silly message about being busy checking on monkeys rolled around. He recalled the afternoon they spent together writing that down − or rather, she did while he just stared at her in disbelief. Monkey jokes were as old as dirt − comparing herself to a monkey sitter didn't help her cause in any way, shape or form. He then laughed at his own joke.

Sheldon's eyes lost focus until Amy's profile photo on the phone screen went black, unsure of how to proceed. He gave her two battery packs for emergencies and that sure was one, but the line was dead. Was the blackout extended to her place, too?

Checking Twitter gave him the terrifying answer he needed but didn't want, staring back at him in 140 character form: all of California was out of electricity. He would have laughed about the statistical possibility of this happening if he wasn't the one currently blacking out. The most relatively normal thought running through his head at that point in time was _what if they're hiding the truth from us and this is only the beginning of a zombie apocalypse?_

He had to get to Amy at every cost − that's how the day was supposed to go and he had to see it through. He didn't want to be alone, either. Most of all, you don't throw your plans to the wind. Never.

His vain attempt to get in touch with Leonard and Penny turned out to be useless − after all, they had specifically told him before leaving they were keeping their phones off to "not be bothered with dumb requests". Sheldon figured they were most likely exhausted from breaking hotel furniture, too; that striked him as an expensive, excessive and just plain weird way of having sex. The least they could was to keep their loud activities away from his hearing − and that concluded his train of thought with a shudder.

Wolowitz or Koothrappali would prove to be useless; he didn't even try with them. On the other hand, contacting Stuart didn't cross his mind at all.

He was alone so he had to take care of this alone. He took a big breath − only lack of oxygen could have dictated his previous obvious statement. Next, he looked up the _How to survive an emergency_ pdf on his phone; reviewing the blackout section wouldn't hurt in his food-deprived state.

CDC didn't suggest drinking water from the tap as it could've been contaminated and he wasn't one to risk it. He knew it wasn't safe and already infested with all types of happy camping bacteria. Having no time to spend on disinfecting it, he also knew he had to take a couple of bottles with him. In turn, that meant he couldn't shower.

_Oh, drats._

The day was going from bad to worse every passing second, rotting like the food in the fridge, and he had no real way of stopping it. It was a train wreck.

Speaking of trains, they probably weren't running either. Sheldon almost dropped his phone from the shock that last realization caused.

* * *

As he reminded himself for the 45th time that day, he had to get to Amy and go through their day as planned. He went into his room to grab his emergency backpack, checking off items from a list he had saved: torch, Season 2 of Star Trek The Original Series on a flash drive, battery packs, umbrella, cord, baby wipes, a pack of Oreos. He added two bottles of water to it and the same amount of clothes changes − it was a bit heavy in the end, but that had to do. After double, triple checking − and a quick last look − he left apartment 4A with an aura of finality. Who knew if he would ever go back there.

As he stepped out in the empty streets, he was wary of the fact that he could've stayed home and do nothing if he wanted to; the choice was there. But he trusted his decision − what he couldn't be sure of was his only mean of locomotion: his own legs.

The scenery was unsettling; between the grey sky, the air pregnant with humidity and the lack of people, he imagined himself as the unfortunate protagonist of a survival horror videogame. He was stuck in his place. Perhaps, pretending to be a character could help − was worth the try, anyway, he had nothing to lose. Taking the iPod out of his jacket pocket, Sheldon set it on a videogame soundtrack playlist. It wasn't appropriate horror music, but the familiar notes of the Super Mario Bros. theme started playing. And there she was Amy, again, taking over his thoughts.

He had to move. Now.

The peculiar mix of hot air and cool wind had him both shiver and sweat; the weather was creeping under his skin, deep down in his bones. A vague wonder came up to him and he asked himself if Mario ever considered not rescuing Peach and save himself the trouble for subsequent times.

But then there wouldn't be any adventure, he thought.

He hoped Amy wasn't in another castle.

Strolling along the streets, putting himself in place of the Italian plumber jumping on Koopas, a true horror came along and deceived him through his ears: Pokémon's Lavender Town's eerie notes made him truly, really run. Why was that in the playlist? He had suffered enough whenever he had to stumble there during his 225 hours of gameplay, but he couldn't bring himself to cancel that track. The idea of an incomplete album on his iPod was troubling.

Amy's apartment finally came into sight as his legs were starting to give up on him. He was out of breath, he was sweating and his back was hurting from the backpack's weight. He almost considered running all the way back to his room before dismissing himself and his lack of levelheadedness.

_If this is what the end of the world does to an intelligent being, I'd rather not see another day. The far and few people I've encountered on the road stared at me clueless. Don't they realize? Of course they don't. The end of civilization is close._

Humanity notwithstanding, how was he supposed to enter the building when the light was still out? He stared at the door long and hard, analyzing and taking into account every possibility. Realizing the simple fact that he forgot to bring Amy's home keys along with him troubled him. Did he even close the door to his own apartment? His mind was filling with doubt. Until two little girls exited through the lobby doors, giving him a chance to enter like two helpful non-playable characters.

He took the torch out of his backpack and dragged his tired body up the stairs, careful not to trip and fall face first in a step. What a trivial way to go that would've been. As he ran through his head more ingenious ways to die for someone like him, he got to 314. He could now knock on her door and ask his girlfriend why did she make him so... preoccupied? Yes − angry at her irresponsible actions. He couldn't be the only one taking care of the important things in their relationship. It was stated in the Agreement, too: they were to be available at all times. This was an emergency. Didn't she understand?

Three series of knocks paused by her name in between each of them, three times as well. Something had to stay the same in all this madness.

Amy appeared behind the slow opening door, dressed in her plaid pajamas and robe. From her puffy eyes and messy hair, Sheldon could tell he had just woken her up. He didn't even need to use his improving face reading skills to tell she was confused.

"Sheldon, what−"

She didn't have time to finish her sentence as she was pulled in close, her face crashing into his chest. He sensed her body going rigid under his touch.

"Don't do this to me ever again" he scolded her, his calm voice betrayed by a small tremble.

"What?"

"This is worse than that time with the bobcat" he sighed.

"...what?" she repeated.

Clueless Amy. He shook his head. She didn't know a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _A big thank you to__ Melanie for being the understanding beta she is._

_Rating is raised to T as of this chapter to be on the extra side of safe.  
_

* * *

**The Jamais Vu Effect**

**II.**

Birds chirping outside the open window brought Leonard to open his eyes. It was that phase of the day, typical of Summer, where the sun hasn't dawned yet but the sky is already tinged with a pale light blue. He reached for his cellphone to check the time, then glanced over his shoulder to find his blonde sleeping companion who snored loudly once before burying her face in the pillow.

He tried dialing a number with no success. He turned to face his fiancée and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

Over an impromptu breakfast with Oreos and herbal tea sweetened with honey, Sheldon explained the situation to Amy between a cookie and the other. She lent both ears to accommodate every word she had to take in, and there were _a lot_ − one succeeding the other in a seemingly endless chain that would have been impossible to follow for any other human being on the planet. She did occasionally respond with furrowed brows and tried to interrupt him a few times, but was reprimanded at the fifth try to keep listening until the end. She did. After a long unrelated tangent on the effects zombies could have on the Earth's ecosystem and food chain, she said with a sigh:

"So... we're out of electricity."

"Your discernment is impressive" he commented after waiting on an ulterior elaboration for a solid minute.

His girlfriend took her sweet time to sip, taste and swallow the tea before giving him an answer.

"To use the technical term − I cut the crap, Sheldon."

He stared at her in disbelief before shrugging his shoulders in what he hoped came across as mocking. "Alright" he said.

Facing each other on the couch, they stayed in silence until their cups were empty and sitting on the coffee table.

Out of the open window, it had started raining and it was pouring − the weather was screaming revenge and they were the unwilling spectators of such a scene. With a sniff of cold wet wind, the smell of rain reached his nostrils and it was intoxicating. It sneaked up on his senses in a most intrusive way. Every pore of his body was refusing it.

"Would you like a refill? I boiled quite a bit of water" Amy suggested, giving sign of wanting to sit up.

"I'm fine for now, thank you. It was enough to calm me down" he replied. Perhaps another _for now_ used for emphasis wouldn't have been so out of place in that state of emergency, but he refrained from saying it. "I'd really like to take a shower, though. Would you mind boiling a bit more water for me?"

At that, Amy settled back on her side of the couch.

"Sheldon, do you really think it's appropriate behaviour to waste gas and water just for your own sense of safety and hygiene?"

Tilting his head to the side, he studied her facial cues.

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"No" she said drily.

"Okay then" he nodded to himself. "Where are you going with this?"

Amy went straight to the point: "It's not all about you. I wouldn't waste things, considering the state we're in."

Right. The impending, dooming apocalypse. A man couldn't even die with dignity and properly showered. Before he had time to reply, she added:

"And by the way, didn't you shower last night? I know you do."

"Of course you do, you're aware of my cleaning routine − one we share for the most part, relevant gender-specific sections aside. So?"

"You still smell of talc. I'd say you're fine for now" she said as her eyes shifted around the room.

"I can smell your shampoo" he reported back. "It's comforting."

Amy's eyes opened wide joining her lips into a smile. She then offered tea for a second time and this time he accepted. As she got up and picked the cups from the coffee table, she pointed at him with a jerk of her head and said: "You should get dressed, though − you know, just in case we need to leave the house. Same goes for me, of course."

Sheldon couldn't help but observe her every move as she was steeping the tea. He trusted her with it − completely, and he was very peculiar with his beverage preferences. He only then realized he was still in his sleep wear as much as his girlfriend and she matched his choice of fabric, too − they were both sporting red plaid.

Amy must have picked up on the pair of eyes intently staring at her, because she said: "It looks like we had a sleepover."

"Imagine how romantic this is going to be once zombies come and eat us" he said with a false look of stupor on his face.

"Come and eat _you_ first, you mean" she threw right back at him.

They had time to discuss the technicalities, Sheldon thought.

* * *

They did consider reading to pass the time at first, but the awful, dark, raining weather made it impossible to read without lighting a candle even at midday − that had to wait. In the meantime, they went through plans, alternatives and scenarios. Being prepared for everything was the only option and Sheldon was grateful he was with someone who understood the importance of that.

In the midst of their briefing, Amy did quote a section from the Relationship Agreement which did indeed state that Sheldon was to defend her with his body if necessary in case of a zombie outrage. Well. He was screwed.

Even though he was dreading the prospect of getting dressed without a shower, they both did so as the rain was dissipating and the moon peeked from a black of thick black clouds. He tried to make up for it by brushing his teeth as meticulously as he could; at the 10th minute mark, his girlfriend advised him to stop or else his teeth were going to fall out. He objected the unrealistic remark, but gave way to let her brush her own teeth.

As the day was drawing to a close, Amy made Strawberry Quik as a way to make up for the lack of dinner, proper food, electricity, hygiene, sense of safety, _anything_. Sheldon drank his glass as if he was satiating his thirst from a water source atop of a mountain after the long way up.

She was wearing a hair barrette that had glitter on it of all things − "A gift from Penny" she said − and that made her shine like a disco ball in the candlelight. He wasn't sure he liked that and was missing her old plain ones already, so he focused on her cardigan instead; it was her pink one. It looked soft to the touch − he could only guess since he never touched it for himself, but Amy was as serious as he is when it came to proper clothes care. She knew the right doses of fabric softener to use. That, and he did touch other clothes of hers once before.

His gaze fell on the line of buttons that kept it closed. She left a couple loose at the collarbone and, traveling just a bit lower, one gave the impression it was going to pop out at the−

"Sheldon?" Amy called him. "Do I have something on...?"

She looked down at herself, searching with her hands.

"I was looking at your cardigan buttons" he said. "Are those mother of pearl?"

"I am... not sure...?" she mumbled.

"Meemaw taught me how to distinguish them when I was little. Can I?"

With that, he craned his neck towards her and Amy seemed to be retreating in the opposite direction for a split second, but then she just said: "Uh... sure..."

She put her (three quarters of the way full) glass of Strawberry Quik on the coffee table.

"How do you drink this stuff anyway? It's so sugary."

"I like sugar" he said matter of factly. "And you like it, too, you like your doughnuts."

"Just touch the button" she urged him.

Sheldon wasn't sure of where to put his hands. _Hand._ Was he supposed to pick the one closer to the neck? The one he was inspecting before that fell precisely between her breasts? The one that sit on her pelvis? As soon as the context of the situation he put himself into caught up to him, he almost didn't want to anymore, but then he decided to test himself like that time he made her check the mole on his shoulder. That day, she was wearing her yellow cardigan and a button stroked his naked arm as she got dangerously close to him. Whether she was trying to hold his hand or taking care of an ingrown hair on his face, it made no real difference. He was a bundle of nerves in any occasion and not because it felt intrusive or as if his private space was being invaded out of necessity. It did bother him, it bothered him a lot − just not for the usual reasons.

He settled for a familiar place so he chose the third button from above, as if he was checking out a necklace. Placing his empty glass next to hers, he brushed his knee against her own as he got closer. Amy had her eyes focused on her lap.

"I can't see well in this light, I'm getting a bit closer" he warned her.

"Okay" was all she said.

Taking the button between his fingers, he played with it, feeling its consistency. There was no doubt, it was indeed mother or pearl. With his knuckles, he grazed the warm and lumpy fabric of the cardigan. He knew it had to be this soft.

"Is this angora?"

"How come you know all these things about fabrics?" she laughed a stunted laugh.

"Scientific curiosity" he brushed the question away. He really was trying to distract himself. "Why do you wear angora during the Summer anyway?"

Amy shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say. What Sheldon's brain was really registering in that moment, more than her words or her clothes, was Amy's hot breath exhaling from her nose, her chest rising up and down under his hand and the creeping sound of the candles burning away.

He betrayed himself when he stole a glance at her and she caught him, staring back in his open wide eyes. His Adam's apple bopped up and down as he gulped saliva he wasn't aware he was holding in. He lost it then and there and just went for her lips blindly, crashing into her. His fingers, at first holding on to the button, grabbed the pink fabric.

He pressed his lips against hers, posing on them a sequence of long, slow kisses. The cold tip of her nose was brushing against his cheek as her sugary breath sent shivers down his spine. Sheldon felt her mouth turning upward in a smile − she was there for him.

He was searching for the smallest response. Sheldon didn't understand the hidden desire to be kissed back by her, to be touched back − it was consuming him. He thought back to the first time she did kiss him on that same couch, and her mouth didn't have the sweet strawberry flavour she had now. The room didn't smell of rain then, either, but of tobacco. Equally as oppressing. Blinding his senses.

So much that his hand was now firmly against her chest, in a weak, careful attempt to touch her breast while the other took hold of the familiar curve of her hip. For all intents and purposes, he was merely checking her heartbeat − and it was beating exceptionally fast.

Once his palm traveled a bit further down and touched the upper side of her breast, she sighed, shivered and withdrew from the kiss. His hand came back to to the button, but it was too late to cover up.

He opened his eyes to find Amy blushing mere inches from his own face, her eyes back to focus on her lap. Removing both of his hands from her body aside, he didn't know what to do.

"Sorry" was the first thing that came to mind.

"Don't say it" she murmured.

"I didn't want to. It won't happen again."

Amy raised her head to stare back at him with a blank expression on her face. Sheldon was startled by the non-verbal response.

"No, I mean..." he added. "I'm going to ask. I kissed you on a non-Date Night. I apologize, Amy."

"I'm not bothered" she reassured him, testing her words. "You can touch me if you want."

"Why do you never do?" he asked.

Amy's shoulders fell down as she blurted out: "What?"

"You never kiss me back" he explained.

"I hold your hand" she said, going back to staring intently at her own.

"Which I don't like − at times."

"I like to be kissed" she pointed out.

Sheldon ruminated on her words for a few long seconds.

"So you let me do all the work?" was his conclusion.

"Is it work for you?" she blurted out, her tone of voice going up a few tones. As far as he knew, this wasn't a good sign, but she was avoiding to show her face to him and that didn't help in understanding the intention behind her words.

"No, it's not work" he said.

"So you like kissing me?"

Amy was keeping her hands closed with such force that her knuckles had turned white.

"It's not Date Night."

He knew it was an elusive answer.

"I don't want to talk about this now" she sighed.

Their knees were touching and Sheldon could still taste the lingering taste of her lips on his own. Still, she appeared to be transported into another dimension he had no chance of getting access to. Did physical contact really mean anything at all? Was it a reward at the end of everything? Was it a nuisance? Was it more trouble than he was willing to go through? Those questions had been upsetting him for months.

"What exactly do you want from me, Amy?" he whined. "I just don't understand you sometimes."

Something else came to mind and it caught up to him so fast he jumped off the couch as if it was on fire, pointing at the glass of Strawberry Quik in alarm.

"It's the syrup, isn't it? You put syrup in this!"

* * *

Penny came to bed, switching on the beside table lamp light. Leonard was trying to call a number again − that one number. She pushed a Hello Kitty plushie that was sitting on the duvet between them aside and asked him: "He's still not answering, is he?"

"It's been two weeks" he flatly replied.

She rubbed his forearm as she snuggled up next to him.

"What did he say in that last email he sent you?"

"I need time alone. I have no time to talk to any of you" Leonard talked as if he was reciting a poem he had read far too many times that it had lost its meaning.

"Amy hasn't been very... present, either. I should go and talk to her" Penny thought out loud.

"When was the last time you talked to her?" he wondered.

«I texted her about Girls Night earlier, but her reply was about... being... tired and hungry and taking a shower and going to bed.»

Leonard took notice of the fact that she was lightly pinching his arm now.

"I see" he exhaled deeply. At the tip of his tongue, his thought escaped him: "Do you think−"

"I don't have time for this conversation right now" Penny cut him short, getting up from the bed and seemingly heading out of the room before stopping dead in her tracks. "Actually, no. Go sleep on the couch."

Leonard was motionless, half-sitting on the bed. "I didn't say..."

"Goodnight" she prompted him.

"We both know this is ending in sex in a couple of hours" he smirked.

Penny snorted and headed back into bed. "Maybe. You're still sleeping on the couch."

He did as he was told, but doubt was still knocking in his mind. Knocking in series of threes.

* * *

**A/N:** _Thank you for reading! This chapter probably raised even more questions, huh? I'd love to hear from you. If you'd like, please leave a review._


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